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grandma poem

sono il vento che esita
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
le preghiere bianche piccole
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
su e giù va
esistere dello swan
fra le montagne ho vagato

 



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